Your Possible Pasts
by TraceyI
Summary: A series of trippy DracoHermione oneshots built around a series of Pink Floyd references, by TraceyI and P1 from We Are the Walrus. For example, how bored would you get trapped in a bottomless pit with your enemy? Rated M for Mature.
1. Wish You Were Here

**Your Possible Pasts**

By TraceyI and P1 from We Are the Walrus

Rated M for Mature

**An Explanation: **"A Collection of Great Dance Songs"

Trying something new this time. I am writing these stories with the inimitable and talented P1 from We Are the Walrus. This will be a series of Draco-Hermione one-shots with a somewhat vague unifying theme that we will leave to our dear readers to discern. (First one to figure it out gets a cookie, or at the very least a hearty congratulations.)

If you are already familiar with either my work or that of We Are the Walrus, you know that you are in for a long, strange trip featuring all possible permutations of romance, sex, angst, humor, sex, impeccable grammar, obscure Pop Culture references, unexpected and sudden left turns, sex, and the occasional embarrassing need to reach for a dictionary and/or a hankie. And did I mention sex?

To the best of my knowledge, P1 is not J.K. Rowling, although I may be mistaken. Similarly, to the best of P1's knowledge, I am not J.K. Rowling. Therefore, to the best of our combined knowledge, we do not own anything even remotely related to the Harry Potter universe (except my nifty Lucius Malfoy walking stick/wand, which is now niftily displayed perched on a pair of talons jutting out from my living room wall, leaving me to explain my series of upper arm bruises on a ridiculously frequent basis).

P1 and I had hoped to cross-post these stories under each of our names, but this website made a frownie face at us. So stories written more than 50 percent by TraceyI will be posted here, and stories written more than 50 percent by P1 will be posted at We Are the Walrus. (We'll worry about stories written exactly 50-50 when we get there.) Keep an eye open for both – they're meant to be read together.

So breathe, set the controls for the heart of the sun, have a cigar, and click the "Submit Review" button at the bottom of your screen. Welcome to the machine!

TraceyI

**

* * *

Your Possible Pasts**

By TraceyI and P1 from We Are the Walrus

We do not own Harry Potter.

Authors' note: One of us started this story after a much-anticipated liaison failed to happen, in almost exactly this way. TraceyI's note: OK, it was I.

Due to recent events, this one's for Syd. Shine on, you crazy diamond.

Rated M for Mature. We will be checking ID.

**Your Possible Pasts

* * *

**

"Wish You Were Here"

_We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year  
Running over the same old ground  
What have we found?  
The same old fears  
Wish you were here _

"Wish You Were Here_" __Waters/Gilmour _

Fantastic and outrageously expensive new outfit? Check.

Fuck me heels? Check.

Manicure? Check.

Pedicure? Check.

Bikini wax? Ouch. Check.

Tasteful yet sexy makeup? Check.

Full, pouty lips with chocolate-flavored lip gloss? Check.

Hair? Check.

Shiny hair? Check.

STRAIGHT shiny hair? Check.

Boobies? Check check.

Date? Shit.

Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Head Girl, lay alone on her enormous Head Girl's bed, trying not to cry. She had spent four hours getting ready for the Yule Ball. She wanted desperately to let it all go, to bawl her eyes out in frustration and loneliness, but the stubborn Gryffindor part of her didn't want to ruin her makeup.

She smiled ruefully. Why were makeup charms no more waterproof than muggle mascara? Note to self: invent a truly waterproof makeup charm, make a fortune, buy Malfoy Manor just to spite that insufferable git, and retire to a life of leisure in the country. And while you're at it, figure out a way of magically straightening curly, frizzy hair that doesn't involve running your wand over _each freakin' lock__ of hair separately_, making steam rise off it in a quite disconcerting manner as it dries.

She gently lifted her head to avoid disturbing her elegant coif and looked down at herself. It was actually difficult to see much beyond her breasts, which were pushed up to within an inch of their lives by what felt like half a whale's worth of whalebone.

She let her head fall back on the pillow in supreme dejection and held up the note clutched in her hand, the one the owl had delivered just minutes ago. She had been sitting at her dressing table, completely ready to go, waiting for the knock at her door. What she got instead was a tap at her window.

_Hermione – _

_I'm not going to make it. Ron and I got a tip on a horcrux three days ago, and we're in Haiti. I want to say have a good time (for your sake), but actually I hope it sucks (for my sake)._

_Best,_

_Harry_

The tears threatened again. "Best, Harry" indeed! What a self-centered prick he was! She felt like she had just had an epiphany, but she wished she hadn't been quite so overdressed for the occasion. She couldn't believe that she had been defending him all these years against all the things people said about him. He really did think the world revolved around him, didn't he? No consideration for the dozens of hours she had spent planning the party to make it perfect. If he wasn't going to get to go, he hoped it sucked. Well fuck you, Harry Potter!

She wasn't really mad that he hadn't come. She knew how important what he and Ron were doing was, and there had always been a better-than-average chance that he wouldn't make it. But to have Hedwig arrive _after_ he was scheduled to pick her up when he had known for _three days_ that he wasn't coming, and to say he hoped it _sucked_? And where the hell were the words "I'm sorry"? Shit, what kind of a man was he? Even lower life forms would have realized that some serious groveling was called for here. She was fairly certain that amoebic dysentery would have realized that flowers were in order if it failed to show up to take a girl to the Stomach Lining Social. What a _dick_!

And to think that she had planned on laying her soul bare for him tonight, not to mention her breasts. Yes, she had been planning for months on finally professing her love for Harry Potter and finally making proper use of her gigantic Head Girl's bed. She had been sure that he had similar feelings for her. That was the only possible explanation for why he had sent her away at the beginning of the school year, wasn't it? After all they had been through during six years at Hogwarts, after the summer spent chasing horcruxes, he had insisted that she return to Hogwarts, take her rightful place as Head Girl, and complete her education. It had to be because he was worried about her safety, didn't it? Exactly as he had done with Ginny, telling her he couldn't date her because Voldemort would use her to get to him.

Tears welled up in Hermione's chocolate brown eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall. How, precisely, had her affection-starved psyche managed to turn Harry's rejection of her into a profession of undying love? How could she have been so bloody blind? How did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?

There was a knock on the door. Hermione sprang up, as did hope, eternal. He had come for her, all the way from Haiti! He had changed his mind after he had sent Hedwig to her! She ran to the door and flung it open. "Harry!" But it wasn't Harry. There, at her door, stood the bane of her existence: Head Boy Draco Malfoy. She seemed to be the only one who didn't buy his story that he had been acting under the _Imperius _Curse, that he was actually a hero for successfully fighting the curse and refusing to kill her beloved Headmaster. She knew that the only person who mattered to Draco Malfoy was Draco Malfoy. The corners of her mouth quirked up slightly. In that way, he was very similar to Harry; they each thought that the earth revolved around them alone. But, she had to admit upon seeing him in his dress robes, the difference was that Draco was much, much better looking. And did he ever smell good. So you think you can tell heaven from hell? What do you do when the person you hate the most looks like a Greek god? Can _you_ tell a green field from a cold steel rail?

"Come on, Granger," he demanded in that snooty, affected drawl of his that made her skin crawl. "You're going to be late. Get a . . . whoa." His gaze had drifted southward. "Nice dress, Granger. Are those new?"

Hermione looked down at her breasts, which were nearly spilling out of her dress. "No, Malfoy," she responded sarcastically, resisting the urge to cover herself. "These parts are factory originals."

Malfoy looked up not at all. "What?"

"Never mind. In any case, I'm not going."

Malfoy started and almost looked up in surprise. Almost. "Of course you are. You've obviously gone to a lot of trouble getting ready," he said to her breasts. "Where is your date?"

"Tilting at windmills." She sighed. "He stood me up." Hermione sniffled, and this time Malfoy did look up.

"Oh well, his loss. Come on."

"I'm not going to the Yule Ball alone, Malfoy," Hermione whined. Merlin, she hated the sound of her voice, but she was so miserable she couldn't help it.

"Why not? I am."

"What about Parkinson?"

"Pansy is in the infirmary, in traction." Malfoy shrugged. "Some unfortunate combination of high heels and a makeup charm gone awry. She looks like a drag queen marionette."

Hermione chuckled despite herself, then winced. "Malfoy, don't make me laugh."

"Why not? So you can sit here feeling sorry for yourself all night?"

"No, seriously, don't make me laugh. One false move and I'll snap a stay, and either you'll be turned into a sartorially exquisite shish kebab, or I'll puncture a lung and fly around the room like a deflating balloon."

Malfoy laughed heartily, throwing his head back. Hermione marveled at how his perfect hairstyle flipped sexily and then returned to its perfect resting state. Maybe that was why he took so bloody long in their shared bathroom – he was practicing his hair toss. She did not want to dwell on the other things that he might be practicing tossing in there for hours on end. In any case, if Hermione had attempted a sexy hair flip at this point, she was fairly certain that her hair either would not move at all or would break off completely. Stupid, insufferable git. Gods, how she hated him. But sweet Merlin, was he gorgeous! "Please don't laugh at me, Malfoy." Hermione tried not to sound like she was pleading, on the verge of tears. "I'm not having a good day."

"Hey, you told a joke. And a relatively funny one at that, all things considered. It would have been rude of me not to laugh."

Hermione's mouth opened and closed like a beached fish.

Malfoy grabbed her arm, surprisingly gently, and dragged her toward the door. "Come on. You've spent months working on this party, micromanaging every fucking detail to make it a success. You'll have a good time."

"I don't know, Malfoy," Hermione said hesitantly.

"Dressed like that, what else are you planning to do tonight?"

"Mope," Hermione answered instantly. "Actually, I've blocked off the whole evening to mope. Tomorrow I'm going to wallow in self-pity. Want to see my date book?"

Malfoy stopped in front of her and took hold of her other arm as well, forcing her to look up into his chiseled, icy features. "Look, Granger. Potter is an idiot. I've been saying that for years, but nobody wants to take the word of the son of a Death Eater over that of The Boy Who Lived. He's a self-centered, egotistical asshole, and believe me, it takes one to know one. He thinks the world revolves around him, that everything is about him. And he yells more than he talks, which drives me crazy."

Hermione gasped in shock. Malfoy was right, on all counts. She had been thinking exactly those same things.

Malfoy continued. "The real tragedy about Harry Potter, Granger, is that he doesn't realize that it's not worth the effort to try to save the world if you don't get the pretty girl at the end of the story."

Wait. What? "Malfoy, did you just pay me a compliment?" Hermione was stunned.

Malfoy smirked, because that's what Malfoys do. "Yeah, I guess I did." He released his grasp on her arms and turned, offering her one of his own. "So, are you ready to go?"

Hermione smiled tentatively and looped her hand through his elbow as they headed for the portrait hole. "Malfoy, what will people say when we arrive together?"

"Stop making such a big deal of everything, Granger. You sound like Potter. They'll say things like 'Look, it's the Head Boy and Head Girl,' and 'Nice job on the party, you two,' OK and maybe 'Hey Granger, are those new?'"

Hermione's cheeks reddened becomingly. Malfoy gave the password and ushered her chivalrously through the portrait hole.

When they arrived at the Great Hall, Hermione drew in her breath. All her hard work had paid off. Everything was perfect. It looked like a winter fairyland. She glanced at the stage, where a band was warming up. Her brow furrowed slightly. She tightened her grip on Malfoy's arm so she could reach up and say in his ear, "Malfoy, aren't those the Weird Sisters? I thought they broke up."

"What, you thought you were the only one who wanted this night to be special? I sent a few owls."

"Malfoy?"

"Look, Granger. Can we call a truce for one bloody night? Just for tonight, could you please call me Draco? We can go back to hating each other on Monday."

"OK. _Draco?_"

"Yes, _Hermione_?"

"Thank you."

* * *

Draco Malfoy woke up with a head full of pain, a mouth full of cotton, a body full of sore muscles, and arms full of soft, yielding flesh. He smirked to himself without opening his eyes. (Yes, Draco Malfoy smirks even when nobody, including himself, is looking.) Time to play his favorite game, Name That Ass. Whenever he woke up with a hangover and company in his bed and could not remember who she was (well, except for that one rather disturbing time it had turned out to be Zabini), he tried to figure out who it was without looking. He flexed his fingers experimentally. His arms seemed to be wrapped around a thin waist. A small indentation. Aha! Belly button. So she – he felt confident that it was a she – was facing away from him. He scowled. Unless it was one of those waifish girly-boys from the Weird Sisters. Nah. They were taller, right? He breathed in deeply. Green apples. OK, that must be hair. He moved his head just a little. Yes, his chin was resting atop someone's head. He flexed his thigh muscles. Something pressed against them. Merlin's left testicle, he was spooning up behind some unknown, petite woman! Draco Malfoy never spooned. It was undignified. 

As he systematically flexed all his major muscle groups, he discovered that they were both quite naked, that he had made her sleep on the wet spot (which had almost seeped over to his side), and that if he flexed just one more body part he was going to find it buried inside a superlative rear end. The Smirk returned. Ah, his favorite hangover remedy – a little hair of the ass that bit him. Or was that a little ass of the dog that bit him? Whatever. Some people preferred to sweat the excess alcohol out of their systems with a hot bath or sauna. Draco Malfoy preferred to work up a sweat the old fashioned way.

Slowly, he pulled his upper hand back from the mystery woman's stomach, trailing it across her hip, feeling the flow of her womanly curves. He reached behind her, his fingertip tracing the line where the top of her thigh met her perfect, heart-shaped ass, eliciting a soft moan from the sleeping figure. He growled in response, pulling his hand back and wetting his middle finger in his mouth before reaching down again and slipping it between her soft folds from behind. He needn't have bothered; she was already sopping wet. She moved instinctively in her sleep, riding his finger, her back arching and pushing her bottom back toward him. Gods, whoever she was, she was a wildcat! She added to the illusion by purring sensuously. Draco wanted desperately to open his eyes, but rules were rules, and he was a Rules Guy.

His other hand, which was snaked under the anonymous woman's side to rest on her concave belly, surged down between her legs, simultaneously drawing her back flush against his body and seeking out her most sensitive area. As his graceful fingers dueled, tantalizing her from in front and behind, the woman let out a passionate moan the likes of which Draco Malfoy had never heard before. He knew she was coming 'round. He positioned himself behind her, poised to replace his fingers with something that would make her cry out again, and hopefully himself as well.

"Oh gods!" she panted. "Harry! I've waited so long for this!"

Malfoy froze, his eyes flying open to take in the messy brown curls. Well, this was going to be awkward. He leaned down and whispered tauntingly in her ear. "I've got some bad news for you, Sunshine."

Hermione, still trapped in his strong arms, whipped her head around to confirm her worst suspicions. "Malfoy!"

As they looked into each others' widening eyes for a moment, each was overcome with a tsunami of flashing vivid images from the previous night.

_Draco conjuring a silver and black onyx flask of aged fire whiskey from beneath his robes and offering a swig to Hermione. And another. And another._

_Hermione basking in the approbation and appreciation of the entire school, for once not caring what anyone thought and dancing provocatively, if somewhat unsteadily, with Malfoy._

_Draco kneeling on the ledge in the gargantuan Heads' bathtub, waist deep in bubbles; Hermione sitting on the edge of the tub, her knees up and her legs spread wantonly, her toes gripping the lip of the tub as Draco kisses down her bare, glistening breasts, licking up the droplets of water running in the opposite direction and caressing the vertical red marks left by her corset before moving his head even lower._

_Hermione, still dazed and tingling from her first ever orgasm, savoring the completely alien sensation of his velvety hardness in her mouth, her tongue swirling around him experimentally._

_Draco carrying her from the bath, not bothering to dry off either one of them, laying her down on his bed, piercing the veil of her innocence. _

_Hermione screaming, one leg drawn back, her foot braced against his shoulder, as he sucks on her pedicured toes and pounds into her._

"Yes, Gran . . . Hermione?" he asked, waiting for her to cry, or slap him, or wrap herself in his satin sheets and run, or try to throw him out of his own room.

Hermione bit her lip. "Don't stop."

With a strangled cry, he grabbed her hips with both hands and plunged into her.

So, _you_ think you can tell heaven from hell?


	2. A Saucerful of Secrets

**A Saucerful of Secrets**

By TraceyI and P1 from We Are the Walrus

Reposted! A hearty _mazel tov_ to Ringwraith528 for correctly identifying the rather tenuous "Pink Floyd" thread that runs through all these stories. If you did not catch at least a third of the roughly 14 Pink Floyd references in "Wish You Were Here," then you must go forth and legally obtain "Wish You Were Here" before proceeding. For those of you playing along at home, there were also passing references to the Grateful Dead, Douglas Adams's "Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency," "Night Court," and "Hedwig and the Angry Inch." Dabble in Pop Culture much?

Disclaimer: We don't own the Potterverse, nor do we have any property interest in the Floydiverse. (Side note to Roger Waters: many, many congratulations on looking a hundred times sexier at 63 than you did at 23. Can't wait to see you do "Dark Side of the Moon" in its entirety in two weeks.) For those of you less familiar with the Wonderful World of Pink Floyd, there are no lyrical quotes from "A Saucerful of Secrets" here because the work is an instrumental piece in four movements.

Rated a good, solid M for Mature. This one will pretty much be a sexual symphony for three instruments (Draco and Hermione you know; have you met Harry?) in four movements. Don't say we didn't warn you.

I recently have read a number of stories in which Hermione was involved in a ménage à trois. How on earth, I thought, did she get herself into those situations? Here is one possible, if not necessarily plausible, explanation.

* * *

"A Saucerful of Secrets" (1) 

_To feel the warm thrill of confusion, that space cadet glow _(2)

**

* * *

**

**Something Else** (3)

It was Friday evening, and Draco Malfoy was just settling down in his private Head Boy's room with the most recent edition of _Playwizard_ magazine and an expensive bottle of massage oil when there was a knock at his door. He sighed and muttered an incantation, the magazine and the oil floating through the air and dropping into a drawer, which closed itself.

Smoothing out his pyjama bottoms and making certain that everything was in its proper place, he flung the door wide. "What?" he demanded crossly. Lovely. Pothead and the Head Mudblood. Here to wear out their welcome with random precision. (4) Although something seemed very odd about the way the two thirds of the Golden Trio stood there, Hermione in front and Harry hanging back nervously. "What the fuck do you want?" he demanded again. "I was busy."

"Ahem." Granger cleared her throat and was silent again. Potter nudged her with his elbow. What the fuck was going on here?

"Malfoy, we have a proposition for you," Hermione finally said. She was her usual factual, cocksure, know-it-all self, but something else seemed to be at work here. Malfoy struggled to put his finger on it. Her voice was somehow different, her breathing heavier, her words slightly slurred. Malfoy looked closer and realized that Granger's cheeks were flushed, her forehead covered with a light sheen of sweat, and her eyes – Merlin, her eyes! They were dilated as wide as bludgers. Her tongue darted out and licked her lips. Malfoy glanced over her shoulder at Potter and discovered that he was exhibiting similar symptoms. This was just too good – Potter and Granger, stoned out of their minds!

"Hey, if you two losers are overdosing on something, you need to see Madam Pomfrey, not me," Malfoy said, backing out of the doorway and starting to close the door. "If you'll excuse me, I've got more important things to do tonight than talk you down from your hallucinations or hold your hair while you puke or whatever."

At that moment, much to Malfoy's surprise, Harry stepped forward and stopped the door from closing with his strong arm. "Listen to what Hermione has to say, Malfoy," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "We have a proposition for you."

Malfoy looked at his watch and then crossed his arms across his bare chest, flexing to show Potter who was boss. "You've got two minutes." Hang about – did Harry Potter just check out his muscles and lick his lips?

Harry stepped back again and motioned Hermione forward, his hand on the small of her back. He didn't remove his hand after Hermione stepped up to face Malfoy, however, and Malfoy watched in morbid fascination as Harry's hand traced small circles on the small of her back and elicited a small moan from the tousled witch. What the hell were these two on? And where could he get some?

Hermione licked her lips yet again. "We have a proposition for you, Malfoy."

"You said that." He looked at his watch. "One minute 45."

Mustering the best impersonation of her normal clinical tone she could under the circumstances, what with Harry's hand moving lower and lower on her back and all, Hermione began quickly but breathily. "We have been earning extra money this term by being test subjects for some of Fred and George's new Wheezes," she began.

Malfoy interrupted her immediately. "What do you need money for, Potter? I hear you've got quite a vault-full at Gringott's."

Hermione waved dismissively in Harry's direction. "He does whatever I tell him to do."

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow, but Harry just shrugged. "Wow, now _that's_ pussy-whipped," Malfoy sneered.

Harry coughed a little. "Actually . . ."

"Actually, that's our problem." Hermione jumped in, taking over the narrative once again. "This particular Wheeze is supposed to be a combination aphrodisiac and contraceptive potion, providing heightened sexual stimulation and a marked increase in stamina." At this, Harry brought his other hand forward, and now both of his hands were massaging Hermione's hips from behind.

Malfoy's interest was piqued, but he was still confused. "So why are you two here annoying me, instead of shagging each other to death in the next room and making me bang on the wall to tell you to stop making so much fucking noise?"

"Because we don't know what to do."

Malfoy stared at her, then looked beyond her to Harry. The dark-haired wizard's hands had stopped moving, and he could not meet Malfoy's gaze.

"You two have been dating for six months and shagging for nearly that long," Malfoy countered. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Except that we haven't . . . done it," Hermione stated. At least she could still look him in the eye, although Malfoy was quite disconcerted by her obvious level of arousal.

"You _what_?"

"Neither of us has ever had sex. We are both virgins. How many ways do you want me to say it?" Hermione put both hands on her hips in a petulant gesture, forgetting that Harry's hands were in the way.

Malfoy started to laugh. He laughed for so long and so hard that his sides ached and tears slid down his cheeks. When he finally came up for air, he looked at his watch. "Thank you, Mudblood, Scarhead," he finally managed to splutter. "You've made my weekend. I don't know why you told me that, but have fun. Your time is up." He made to shut the door, chuckling softly and shaking his head.

This time Hermione's foot stuck itself in the doorway. "We want you to show us."

Time stood still as Draco Malfoy slowly opened the door once more. "Come again?"

Hermione reached a trembling hand forward and ran one finger up Malfoy's bare chest. "That," she said seductively, as if this was a brand new tone of voice for her, stepping forward and pushing Malfoy into his room, Harry tagging along behind her, "is the idea. Again and again and again and again and again."

Malfoy drew a sharp intake of breath, feeling himself getting caught up in the current of the couple's arousal. "Why me?"

"Because, Malfoy," Hermione said, trying vainly to mix the clinical and seductive tones, "everyone says you're the best shag at Hogwarts, and you'll fuck anything. Girls, boys, farm animals, the occasional farm implement. It's a good thing Malfoy Manor has a working farm, isn't it? Tell me, are you on a first name basis with all your sheep? (5) Are they only dimly aware of a certain unease in the air?" (6)

Malfoy thought that his tentative grip on reality was loosening as Hermione drew a lazy circle with her finger around his nipple. "Only the females. I have my standards, you know." Malfoy suddenly realized that he had been backed up against his large bed. He sat down heavily, finding himself looking almost directly into Hermione's heaving bosom. For some reason, it reminded him of an eclipse, (7) and he decided that the best course of action was not to look directly at it.

"So, Malfoy," Hermione asked, her other index finger circling his other nipple in the opposite direction, "are you in or are you out?"

With a shake of his head, Malfoy grabbed both of Hermione's wrists in his hands. "What's in it for me?"

Hermione had known that this question was coming. Malfoy always wanted to know what was in it for him. Good job she had an answer at the ready. "You get to carve two more notches in your bedpost."

The front of Malfoy's pyjama bottoms jumped. "You mean?"

Behind Hermione, Harry nodded. "You get to fuck us both."

**

* * *

**

**Syncopated Pandemonium **(8)

Malfoy's eyes widened in disbelief. "Ha ha, charade you are. (9) Good one, Granger, Potter. You almost had me going there for a moment."

Hermione shook her head. She conjured a Quick Quotes Quill and parchment with a wave of her wand. "Would you like me to put it in writing?"

Malfoy just sat there, slack-jawed.

"But we have certain terms to which you must agree."

"Oh, here we go." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Let me guess. Missionary position, lights out. Look, if that's what you want, you bloody well should be able to figure that out on your own."

Hermione shook her head again. "That is very much not what we want." With a movement so fast that Malfoy didn't really see it at all, Hermione leaned down and stroked her tongue from Malfoy's right nipple to the side of his throat and bit down gently. Now she really had his attention. The quill began to scratch against the parchment as if of its own volition as she reeled off the terms. "One. Harry takes my virginity. That's a deal-breaker."

Malfoy nodded dumbly in acquiescence.

"Two. No insults. You may refer to me as Hermione or Granger, but not Mudblood or anything similar. You may refer to Harry as Harry or Potter, not Scarhead, Pothead, or any of the other terrible names you have for him. Terms of endearment uttered in the heat of the moment will be deemed acceptable, but there are to be no uses of terms like 'slut' and 'whore,' no matter what your other partners like to be called. To be fair, we agree to refer to you only as Malfoy or Draco, and never 'you despicable, in-bred, albino ferret bastard.'"

"Oi!" Malfoy protested.

"Sorry," Hermione said, smiling despite herself. "I had to get it out of my system."

Malfoy shook his head once more, disconcerted, as if he were trying to dislodge something that was stuck between his eyeballs. He thought for a moment, then nodded his head once. "Anything else?"

"Yes," Hermione continued. "No permanent scars."

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. "Only permanent ones?"

"And no temporary marks that cannot be hidden by a concealment charm," Hermione hastened to add.

"Beginning, Intermediate, or Advanced concealment charm?" Malfoy asked with great caution.

Hermione and Harry looked at each other. Harry motioned her across the room and invoked a _Muffliato_ spell. Although he could not hear what they were saying, Malfoy could tell that they were arguing heatedly over this point. Finally, Malfoy read Harry's lips form an angry "_Finite Incantatem_," and Hermione turned to Malfoy. "Advanced."

It was a good thing that Malfoy was sitting down. Otherwise, he might have collapsed from the shock.

The quill signed the three teenagers' names with a flourish and stopped writing, and it and the parchment settled on Malfoy's bedside table.

Malfoy quickly regained his composure, at least somewhat, enough to ask, "Aren't you going to swear me to secrecy, blah blah blah?"

Hermione smirked wickedly, an expression that Malfoy had never seen cross her face before. She had obviously learned it from him, and he was immensely turned on by it. "That's the beauty of it, Malfoy. You can tell anyone you want – you know nobody will ever believe you."

This really was too much for Malfoy. "All right, enough's enough. _I_ don't believe you."

Hermione hiked up her skirt, put both of her hands on Malfoy's chest, and straddled his lap in a series of lightning-fast moves. She surreptitiously brought one hand to her mouth before descending on him in a fiery, bruising kiss. Malfoy responded instantaneously and instinctively, grabbing Hermione's waist as their tongues engaged in an age-old battle for domination. Then he felt it. A small tablet dissolving on his tongue. It tasted delicious, fizzing like carbonated lemonade. Hermione slowly pulled away, and Malfoy equally slowly rolled his tongue back into his mouth, savoring the taste and the sensation, and rolled his eyes back in his head. When the fizzing had stopped, he opened his eyes.

"Was that . . ."

"The Wheeze, yes."

"How long until . . . "

"About 90 seconds."

"And how long will . . . "

Harry coughed, and Hermione sent him a nasty look. "Well, that's a good question. It's supposed to last about 12 hours, but something seems to be wrong with the potion, which is why we're here in the first place."

Malfoy's body starting to tingle strangely, and he narrowed his eyes. Well, technically, he _shortened_ his eyes; narrowing is for horizontal movements, shortening is for vertical movements, but nobody ever says "he _shortened_ his eyes." (10)

"_Wrong?"_

Hermione watched in fascination as gooseflesh appeared on Malfoy's strong arms and smooth, defined chest. She was fairly certain that Harry, behind her, was watching just as appreciatively. She licked her lips yet again. "It's much, much stronger than we expected it to be. I would estimate by a factor of four. So my best guess for its duration is 48 hours." She watched as Malfoy's irises dilated in a matter of seconds like black holes in the sky (11) as the potion hit him full force, and suddenly his lap was a jagged and uncomfortable place to be perched. "I hope you weren't planning on catching up on a lot of homework this weekend, Malfoy," she whispered before kissing him again, just as she felt Harry come up behind her and latch his lips onto the nape of her neck, intent on leaving the first mark of the night.

**

* * *

**

**Storm Signal **(12)

Hermione and Malfoy went at it for several minutes, kissing as if their lives depended on it, Malfoy holding Hermione's hips and rubbing her against his crotch. The young witch moaned wantonly as Harry straddled Malfoy's legs behind her and attacked her neck, leaving a trail of pink marks and bite prints. Harry tried to control the movement of Hermione's hips from behind, but he was fighting a losing battle as she ground ferociously against Malfoy. Harry finally gave up and slid out of his uncomfortable and unstable position, but Hermione seemed not to notice at all. Without Harry's counterbalancing weight, Malfoy tipped over onto his back, Hermione landing splayed across him, the two never pausing in their explorations.

Harry coughed once. Again, louder. After giving himself a few seconds to regain his breath and get the feeling back in his legs, Harry growled in a low tone, "Malfoy, get the fuck off my girlfriend."

Hermione and Malfoy stopped their furious kissing and stared at Harry, Malfoy's hands caught in Hermione's wild mane of hair, Hermione looking angry at being interrupted. "Technically, Pothe. . . " Hermione shifted the angry look to him with a warning. "Um, _Potter_," Malfoy continued, "I'm not _on_ your girlfriend. In fact, it very much looks to me like it's the other way around." He smirked unmercifully. "But if you insist."

Malfoy moved one leg up, throwing Hermione off balance and, complaining wordlessly, off his body. He arranged the pillows on the bed so that he could lie back on them in a comfortable, half reclining, half sitting position, then he pulled Hermione to him so that her back was flush against his bare chest, her skirt hiked all the way up around her waist, showing off her sopping but virginal white knickers, her knees bent and her legs draped outside his. Malfoy wrapped one arm around Hermione's waist from behind, pulling her blouse out of her skirt and letting his fingers inch their way up under the hem to her flat stomach. With his other hand, he moved her mass of hair away from her neck and was about to start kissing it when he saw Harry's handiwork. "Nice job, Potter," he marveled.

Harry grunted and rolled his eyes in frustration.

"What?" Malfoy demanded.

"You're supposed to be showing us what to do, not shagging Hermione while I watch!"

"Well then, get your ass over here!" Malfoy reached out and grabbed Harry by the tie, dragging him onto his knees on the bed, planting a kiss on Harry's surprised lips before he could think twice about it as Malfoy's other hand continued to tease at Hermione's navel.

Hermione was already panting at the over-stimulation. "You're very good at multi-tasking, Malfoy" she gasped. "Can you pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time as well?" Malfoy's tongue was otherwise engaged and unable to reply, but without glancing up or breaking his kiss he brought one hand up under her blouse to caress her nipple while deftly removing Harry's tie with the other. How he managed to smirk while doing all of this, Hermione would never know, but he did it.

When Harry finally drew away from Malfoy in a daze, he ran his fingers through his unruly black hair and took a deep breath. "OK, Malfoy, what now?"

Malfoy let his head flop back against the pillows again and drew Hermione's hair away from her ear, breathing into it erotically as he stated in a stage whisper, "Ladies first, that's what my mother always taught me. What makes your snitch fly, Granger?" He swirled his tongue in her ear.

Hermione closed her eyes and moaned even louder. "I don't know, Malfoy," she whined. "I'm a virgin, remember? You're supposed to show me what I like, that was the deal."

"I know you said you and Potter haven't gone all the way, but what does he do to make you come? Does he use his fingers? His tongue? His broom? What? What do you like?"

"Malfoy," Hermione wailed as he relished the feeling of her delicate backside squirming across his hardened member, "we haven't done anything. I've never had an orgasm."

Malfoy looked at Harry with disdain. "You're a terrible boyfriend, treating your woman like that, Potter." He turned his attention back to Hermione. "And you've never rubbed one out on your own?"

"No."

"Fucking Gryffindors. No wonder you're always so bloody tense." He rearranged the pillows so that he was sitting up even more, with Hermione on his lap. "Come over here." He motioned Harry closer. "All right, Potter. Lesson One: The Female Orgasm."

Harry crawled up Malfoy's legs, straddling them and facing Hermione.

"OK, first, you've got to get her kit off," Malfoy instructed.

Harry reached for the zip on Hermione's skirt and lowered it quickly. Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter! Do it with a little flair, would you?"

"How do you expect me to get her skirt off when she's mushed between us like that?" Harry retorted.

"Move back, will you, Harry?" Hermione asked, the petulance creeping back into her tone. Harry shook his head, lifted one leg and pivoted off Malfoy's legs, sitting back on his haunches on the bed. Hermione shimmied out of her skirt, giving Malfoy's lap quite a massage with her bottom while she did it, causing him to sink his head far back into the pillows. The no-nonsense tone of old seeped back into Hermione's voice. "Malfoy, I vote we each take off our own clothes." Harry nodded, pulling his sweater vest over his head, mussing his hair even further, as Hermione kicked off her shoes.

Malfoy clapped his hand to his head in disgust. "You two have no style and no imagination," he complained, bucking his hips up so that Hermione had to lift herself from his lap as he quickly divested himself of his pyjama bottoms, leaving himself stark naked with an erection that nearly pressed into his belly as he leaned against the pillows.

Harry quickly removed the rest of his own clothes, folding them neatly in a pile and gently lowering them to the floor. As Hermione started to follow suit, Malfoy's hands on her wrists stopped her.

"Watch and learn, Potter," Malfoy admonished. He positioned Hermione so that she was again straddling his lap, kneeling upright and facing away from him. The two boys were naked, and she was wearing only panties, her blouse, and whatever she had on under her blouse. Hermione looked at Harry nervously as she felt Malfoy's hands travel up her hips, lift her blouse out of the way, and then skim under the leg elastic of her plain white cotton knickers to knead the soft flesh of her perfectly-shaped ass. Although his fingers occasionally brushed between her legs to her sex, he deliberately avoided her most delicate areas. After several long, tortuous minutes, Malfoy suddenly grasped the sides of her knickers and tore them from her body with one motion, the fabric dividing under his rough fingers. Hermione was so surprised that she sat down quickly, leaving her soaking femininity in extremely close proximity to Malfoy's silky hardness.

A whistle of air forced itself from between Malfoy's clenched teeth as he struggled to restrain himself. "OK, Potter," he gritted out, "your turn. Take off her blouse."

With shaking fingers, Harry reached for the top button of Hermione's blouse. "No, you idiot!" Hermione shot Malfoy another warning glance. "Tear it off her, Potter! Be a man!" Angry at the assault on his masculinity, Harry ripped open the front of Hermione's blouse, buttons flying in every direction.

Aghast at what he had done, Harry apologized profusely, only to be grabbed and snogged senseless by Hermione, who was getting more turned on by the moment. Malfoy's hands helped Hermione out of her blouse without her assistance or even knowledge, leaving her in just a plain white cotton bra.

"OK, Potter, good work. Now all you've got to do is get her bra off. And by the way, Granger, we're going to have to buy you some new lingerie. The "Virgin" look is definitely not going to work for you after this."

Without breaking his kiss, Harry reached around Hermione and fiddled with the clasp. And fiddled and fiddled. He stopped kissing Hermione and looked over her shoulder in puzzlement, trying to figure out how the complicated mechanism worked. "Sweet Merlin, Potter!" Malfoy exploded. "Have you never unhooked a bra? You have plummeted even further in my esteem." With a quick flick of Malfoy's fingers, Hermione was released from her Maidenform Fortress, and Harry gently eased the straps from her shoulders. Now all three were completely naked.

Pulling her body back against his chest, Malfoy chanced a look over Hermione's shoulder at her bare chest. "Holy shit, Granger!" Malfoy exclaimed, very impressed. "Have you been hiding those under your robes all year? They're magnificent!" He reached up with both hands, cupping her perfectly round breasts, his thumbs dancing across her high, puckered nipples. Hermione threw her head back, her crazed but surprisingly soft mane of hair rubbing against Malfoy's chest and neck and making him growl.

Harry angrily slapped at Malfoy's hands and tried to pull Hermione closer to him. "Harry, I'm not a rag doll!" she protested.

"But you are my girlfriend!" he countered.

Seeing his opportunity for a threesome with the best two thirds of the Golden Trio slipping away quickly, Malfoy held up his hands in surrender. "She's all yours, Potter."

Harry nodded in satisfaction, but his expression quickly turned to one of aroused confusion. "Now what?" he asked for the far-too-many-eth time.

Malfoy sighed. He positioned himself so that his lips were against Hermione's ear but spoke to Harry. "Kiss her," he commanded. Harry complied. "Not bad. Now run your tongue around the insides of her upper teeth. Suck her bottom lip into your mouth. Gently! You're not trying to rip it off her, just get some extra blood flowing to it. Now kiss to the corners of her mouth, first one side, then the other." Harry followed orders closely, possibly for the first time in his Hogwarts career. Hermione was driven nearly crazy with desire as she heard Malfoy's haughty, incredibly sexy, cultured voice instructing Harry, each new direction followed within seconds by Harry doing amazing things to her. She thought she was going to explode as Malfoy continued.

"Run your fingers through her hair, Potter. Get them good and caught in there and pull her head back so you can have access to her neck and throat. Now kiss right along her jugular vein, starting at the pulse point. A little higher. A little to the left. There!"

A tremor shot through Hermione's body as Harry's lips, under Malfoy's direction, found an erogenous zone she didn't even know she had. "Mmm, you like that, do you, Granger?" Malfoy purred.

Harry broke contact briefly. "How can you tell?"

"Because she's fucking dripping on me," Malfoy announced, reaching down to pass his fingers across his sodden groin before pressing them to Harry's lips. Tentatively, Harry's tongue snaked out to taste Hermione on Malfoy's fingers. Hermione could barely breathe by this point.

"OK, now bite her, just a little nip at her earlobe, followed with a soothing swipe of your tongue. Now do the same thing to that little mound of flesh right behind her ear." Hermione squealed. He had found another one. "Excellent."

"Do you like it when I do that to you, Hermione?" Harry whispered in Hermione's ear. He tried to make his tone sensual, but it was really curious.

"Mmm hmmm," Hermione moaned with a sharp nod, rubbing herself against Malfoy's lap.

"I think she wants you to do it some more, Potter." Malfoy was whispering in her other ear. "Try this." He scraped his teeth against the pulse point in her neck, his canines barely denting her soft flesh.

Harry watched and then matched Malfoy's actions on Hermione's other side. "Does that turn you on, Hermione?" Harry asked. Both men could feel the blood pounding through Hermione's veins as they nipped, licked and sucked at her neck.

Hermione no longer had the presence of mind to answer. She was lost in a rhapsodic fantasy, quite literally caught between the good boy and the bad boy, between the light and the dark. The angel and the devil were each at one of her shoulders, each whispering things in her ear. Although, in all the times she had seen that scenario in various Muggle media, it had never ended with the angel and the devil grabbing each other around the person whom they were counseling and snogging each other breathless.

Finally, Malfoy broke away from Harry. "Are you ready to suckle on those beautiful tits, Potter?"

Harry nodded eagerly and kissed Hermione quickly on the lips before moving farther down her body.

"Careful now, Potter. Lots of tongue and suction, very little teeth. Just the occasional tug, unless of course she asks you to bite her harder." Hermione sent a murderous glance over her shoulder, and Malfoy shrugged. "You never know, Granger. You might like it."

Malfoy turned his attention back to Harry, instructing him like a general orchestrating troop movements. "Don't stop what you're doing, Potter, but with one hand cup her other breast and rub your thumb over her nipple. Give it the occasional pinch, but be gentle. Watch, listen, and be aware of her response. If she seems to be enjoying it and you think you can get away with a little of the rough stuff, I say go for it."

What the hell, thought Harry, and nipped at one side and pinched at the other. He held his breath, waiting for Hermione to slap him or yell at him, only to find her jerking her hips up toward him and thrashing her head from side to side against Malfoy's chest. The teenagers moaned in three-part harmony, with feeling. (13)

Gods, thought Harry, if I were any more turned on I could cut glass with my dick. When do I get my turn?

After Harry had ministered to Hermione's breasts for awhile, Malfoy determined that the time was right. His legs were starting to fall asleep from the pressure of both Granger and Potter on them, and if Granger were any more ready she'd slide right off his lap. He motioned for Harry to get up and, after running his tongue around the shell of her ear, he directed further instructions at Hermione.

"Are you ready, Granger?" Hermione nodded dazedly. "Now, the trick is to remain sufficiently in control to allow yourself to completely lose control."

Hermione looked over her shoulder in confusion as Malfoy gave her shoulders a quarter turn so they could look at each other. "I don't understand."

"When you first start to come, you're going to panic. You're going to tell me to stop because the sensations are so completely alien to you."

"What sensations?" Hermione started to ask, but Harry broke in.

"What do you mean she's going to tell _you_ to stop, Malfoy? I get to fuck her first. Rule Number One."

"We agreed that you get to take her virginity, Potter," Malfoy sneered. "We didn't say anything about who gets to make her come first."

Harry objected strenuously and was about to get off the bed when Malfoy quieted him with a gentle hand on his strong upper arm. "Come on, Potter," Malfoy coaxed. "Don't you want your girlfriend's first orgasm to be an earth-shattering experience? And more importantly, don't you want to be able to concentrate completely while you watch her thoroughly lose it? You want to watch. You know you do." He ran one finger up Harry's arm and down his chest, making Harry close his eyes and shudder before nodding his assent.

Hermione didn't think she could get any more aroused, but this exchange nearly did her in. "What sensations?" she repeated, trying to bring the attention back to her.

"Greatly increased breathing rate, elevated heart rate, muscular contractions – both internal and external." Malfoy ran through the list clinically, as he knew Hermione would appreciate. "So the trick will be to control your 'fight or flight' response just enough to let nature run its course. Do you think you can do that, Granger?"

Hermione took a couple of deep breaths and nodded.

"Good girl. You'll be stretched to the point of no turning back. (14) Then Potter, while she's still a soul in tension that's learning to fly, tongue-tied and twisted, just an earth-bound misfit, (15) that's when you move in and take her. It will hurt her less that way."

Malfoy nudged Hermione off his lap and onto her knees. "Potter, I want you to kneel facing her," he commanded. "Hold her arms to keep her from falling and lock your eyes to her face while we put on a little show for you." He rose to his knees and moved behind Hermione, wrapping his hands around her waist and preparing to place himself between her legs from behind.

"No, Malfoy!" Hermione and Harry shouted simultaneously.

"Relax, you two," Malfoy soothed. "She's so hot right now that I could make her come just by telling her what's going to happen. Couldn't I, Granger?" He nipped at the erogenous zones in her neck and behind her ear that he had shown Harry. "I could set you off just by whispering about how a few strokes will have you screaming and seeing stars. Come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine." (16) Hermione's breath started to come in ragged pants. "But where's the fun in that? For your information, there are many ways you can stimulate a woman's clitoris so that she achieves orgasm. You can use your fingers." At this, his hands skimmed down the fronts of her thighs and he barely brushed against her with his thumb, causing Hermione to jerk once in his arms. "You can use your mouth. We'll save that one for later, shall we? Maybe little games and daisy chains and laughs (17) with the three of us each doing that to one another in a circle? There's a reason we're called 'Head Boy' and 'Head Girl,' you know. We can make you an honorary 'Head' for the weekend, Potter." Both Harry and Hermione felt themselves on the verge of something completely unknown to them at Malfoy's erotic words. "Or you can use something else, preferably something hard, smooth, and wet." With these words, he spread his knees wide on the bed, lowering himself as he lifted Hermione's back toward him, positioning himself between her legs. Then he slid his knees toward each other, raising himself up again, as he gently eased Hermione's knees apart on the bed, lowering her until her exposed bundle of nerves was flush against his rock-hard shaft, and then he held still.

After a few motionless seconds, he ever so slowly started to slide himself against her. Harry watched, transfixed, his eyes dilating even further, as Hermione's mouth dropped open and her head lolled back. Harry had to struggle to keep her from toppling forward. Malfoy's predictions proved eerily accurate, and after just a few deliberate strokes, Hermione felt her breathing start to hitch. Her eyes widened in panic. "Harry!" she exclaimed. "What's happening?" The Boy Who Lived gripped her wrists even more tightly as Malfoy slightly increased his rhythm and ran his hands up her body to engulf her breasts. His thumbs brushing electric circles on her nipples, his perfect white teeth nipping at the pulse point in her neck, he smirked as he felt it – Hermione was responding instinctively, moving her hips to increase the pressure and speed. "That's it, baby," Malfoy encouraged her, pinching her nipples and thrusting harder. "Just relax and let it happen." Then suddenly she was screaming uncontrollably, her entire body shuddering convulsively as if she had been plugged into a Muggle electric socket. Harry held her tightly as Malfoy continued his ferocious attack, milking every last twitch from Hogwarts Head Girl Hermione Granger's first orgasm.

The force of her body's reaction sent Malfoy careening over the edge as well, and his release spurted onto Harry's thigh. Momentarily distracted, Harry looked at his leg.

"Now, Potter!" Malfoy panted. He reached around Hermione's body, grabbed Harry's hips, and pulled him toward the witch.

"Oh, yeah, right." Harry moved on his knees, his waxing erection coming into brief contact with Malfoy's waning one as he forced his way home with one massive thrust of his hips, the muscles in his buttocks clenching violently. Her limp body leaning back against Malfoy for support, and every fiber of her being on fire, Hermione didn't even seem to notice the pain.

"Let her adjust a little," Malfoy admonished quietly as he saw Harry about to answer the call of millennia of evolution and pound into Hermione. After a few seconds to allow Hermione's torn body to accept Harry and to allow Harry to control his baser urges, Malfoy nodded and Harry started to move slowly, his lips seeking out Hermione's.

"I want to go faster!" he gasped.

"Wait until she's ready," Malfoy warned him.

"How will I know?"

"Oh, her body will give you subtle cues. Be alert for them."

"Like what?"

Suddenly, Hermione clutched at Harry's ass and started to pull him toward her with increasing speed. "Faster, Harry!" she huffed. "Harder!"

"Like that."

Within seconds, Harry's hips had fallen into a complicated, ancient rhythm, and his and Hermione's bodies sucked wetly against each other with each syncopated movement. Malfoy added his hands and mouth to the dance, kissing and rubbing every hot spot that veered within his reach on both members of the passionately rutting pair. Once again proving his mastery of multi-tasking, he also managed to keep all three of them from tumbling over and gave himself a few good hand pumps.

The storm built and swirled around them, the Wheezes causing them to experience every touch, taste, sound, smell, and sight as if magnified by a factor of 100. They each felt as if they had more senses than the normal complement of five. In fact, there's no sensation to compare with this. Suspended animation. A state of bliss. (18)

With a tremendous cacophony of pleasure, all three achieved Nirvana simultaneously and collapsed on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs.

**

* * *

Celestial Voices (19) **

Hermione awoke slowly as if swimming to the surface from a great depth. She had never had dreams like these, swirls of erotic sensations in brilliant colors. At first she thought that no one had ever had dreams like these. Then she wondered whether Harry and Malfoy had had them, too. She found herself sandwiched between the two boys, her body arrayed around Malfoy's lean form, Harry pressed tightly against her back. She realized that what had woken her was the feeling of Malfoy's hands sweeping gently across her body. She could tell from Harry's regular, deep breathing on her neck that he was still asleep. Even so, she could feel his erection pressed against the small of her back, and she didn't even have to move her hand to know that Malfoy was ready to go again. She was pleased to note that every nerve ending in her body was still alight; apparently, the effects of the Weasleys' latest Wizard Wheeze were not diminished while one rested and regained one's strength.

Something niggled at the back of her mind. "Malfoy?" she whispered.

"Mmm?" he responded quietly, tipping his head down to place a brief but deadly kiss to her lips.

"Did you call me 'baby'?"

Malfoy chuckled. "It is bad form to call a girl by her last name while you're plunging between her legs."

Hermione seemed to accept this explanation. "Want to try it out again before Harry wakes up?"

In an instant, Malfoy was on his side facing Hermione, piercing her body with his own, struggling not to thrust so hard that he'd create a Newton's Cradle effect and send Harry's peacefully slumbering form flying off the opposite side of the bed. This time, the "increased stamina" portion of the Wheeze kicked in full force, and Malfoy proudly set a personal best for duration while managing to call Hermione every sexy little endearment he had in his collection to avoid calling her "Granger," which was déclassé, or "Hermione," which he just couldn't bring himself to say.

Over the remainder of the weekend, the trio combined themselves in every permutation Hermione could come up with and exhausted every position in Malfoy's extensive repertoire. They tried everything each had ever heard about or dreamt about, as well as coming up with some impressive new maneuvers on the spur of the moment. They used Malfoy's entire bottle of rare and expensive massage oil. They came up with interesting new uses for a feathered quill; Hogwarts school ties; a fluttering golden snitch; and the _Wingardium Leviosa_, _Aguamenti_, _Locomotor Mortis_,_ Engorgio_, _Rictusempra_,_ Expecto Patronum_, _Incarcerous_, and, obviously and repeatedly, _Scourgify_, spells. They flooded the cavernous Head's bathroom. They used _Reparo_ on several pieces of antique furniture that were not up to the task.

And when Sunday night finally came around, they were exhausted, sore, bruised, marked, and completely and utterly sated. The Wheeze wore off Harry and Hermione first, since they had taken it earlier, and they were dressed and about to head for the kitchens, hand in hand, for a late night snack when Malfoy returned to his normal state. He lay prone on his bed as he had been when the knock had come on his door Friday evening, clad only in pyjama bottoms, this time unable to move a muscle of his body.

Patting Hermione's bottom, smirking at the knowledge that she wore nothing under her clothes and marveling that smirks were apparently contagious, Harry turned and looked at Malfoy over his shoulder. "Hey Malfoy?" he asked, tossing a vial labeled "WWW Testing" into the air and catching it again.

"Yeah, Potter?" Malfoy responded testily, his normal arrogant self once again fully on display.

"Keep your calendar open for next weekend, yeah?"

_

* * *

If you didn't care what happened to me  
And I didn't care for you  
We would zig zag our way through the  
boredom and pain  
Occasionally glancing up through the rain  
Wondering which of the buggers to blame  
And watching for pigs on the wing. (20) _

* * *

(1) _A Saucerful of Secrets _(from "A Saucerful of Secrets" by Pink Floyd) 

(2) _In the Flesh_ (from "The Wall" by Pink Floyd)

(3) _A Saucerful of Secrets _(from "A Saucerful of Secrets" by Pink Floyd)

(4) _Shine on You Crazy Diamond_ (from "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd)

(5) _Sheep_ (from "Animals" by Pink Floyd)

(6) _Sheep_ (from "Animals" by Pink Floyd)

(7) _Eclipse_ (from "Dark Side of the Moon" by Pink Floyd)

(8) _A Saucerful of Secrets _(from "A Saucerful of Secrets" by Pink Floyd)

(9) _Pigs (Three Different Ones)_ (from "Animals" by Pink Floyd)

(10) Hugh Laurie, _The Gun Seller_

(11) _Shine on You Crazy Diamond_ (from "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd)

(12) _A Saucerful of Secrets _(from "A Saucerful of Secrets" by Pink Floyd)

(13) _Alice's Restaurant Massacree_ (from "Alice's Restaurant" by Arlo Guthrie)

(14) _Learning to Fly_ (from "A Momentary Lapse of Reason" by Pink Floyd)

(15) _Learning to Fly_ (from "A Momentary Lapse of Reason" by Pink Floyd)

(16) _Shine on You Crazy Diamond_ (from "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd)

(17) _Brain Damage_ (from "Dark Side of the Moon" by Pink Floyd)

(18) _Learning to Fly_ (from "A Momentary Lapse of Reason" by Pink Floyd)

(19) _A Saucerful of Secrets _(from "A Saucerful of Secrets" by Pink Floyd)

(20) _Pigs on the Wing (Part I)_ (from "Animals" by Pink Floyd

Haven't read Hugh Laurie's "The Gun Seller" yet? Go put on some Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd and read it.


	3. Empty Spaces

**Your Possible Pasts**

By TraceyI and P1 from We Are the Walrus

Happy 19th birthday, Tom Felton!

Disclaimer: If you think either of us owns Harry Potter, you're already off on your own long, strange trip, and you don't need to join us on this one.

Speaking of which, remember how I (the "I" in question being TraceyI, in this instance) said in the explanation that these would be trippy stories? This one's pretty trippy.

And do you know what I found out? Guess what Roger Waters's son's name is. It's Harry! Harry Waters plays Hammond organ in his dad's band, which I was able to see do "Dark Side of the Moon" in its entirety since the last update. If you like Pink Floyd (and I think it's a given that I do), you should take the opportunity to see Roger Waters in concert at least once in your life (or, you can be like me and do so at least eight times in your life).

Rated M for Mature. Show your driver's license to the bouncer.

* * *

"Empty Spaces" 

_What shall we use to fill the empty spaces?_

"Empty Spaces" _Waters _(1)

_

* * *

Tuesday, 4:30 AM_ (2) 

Bolts of red and green light flew in every direction as the two teenagers ran like hell (3) across the uneven ground, hurling curses at each other, many of the unforgivable variety.

_

* * *

Tuesday, 4:33 AM _(4) 

"_Avada Kedavra!"_ Draco Malfoy yelled, running forward and half-turning to fire the spell over his right shoulder. The shot went wide as the Gryffindor ducked to the side.

_"__Expelliarmus!_" Hermione Granger screamed, straightening and gaining speed again. Malfoy's wand flew from his hand and his body flew away from her, hitting the ground with a satisfying thump. At least the thump was satisfying to Hermione, who raced up to Malfoy's prone form, standing over him and breathing heavily. Just as she was about to bind his hands and feet with the _Incarcerous_ spell, Malfoy's hand shot out and grabbed Hermione's right wrist, sending her wand bouncing along the ground as he kicked her feet out from underneath her and rolled the petite, shrieking brunette beneath his much larger body. Unfortunately for both of them, there was no ground below them.

The two falling bodies clutched at each other instinctively, screaming, as they fell.

_

* * *

Tuesday, 4:37 AM _(5)_ Falling, falling._

Hermione screamed and screamed, waiting for the sickening smack of her body meeting the earth. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Each second stretched out for eternity, ticking away the moments. (6) Four seconds. She opened her eyes, which she had screwed shut tightly. Five seconds. She realized that she was the only one still screaming. Why hadn't they hit the ground yet?

Malfoy's despised voice sounded as if from a long way off, as if he was reading her mind and somehow inside of it. "Bottomless pit."

"What!" The sound of the wind rushing by made it almost impossible to hear him; it was as though his words leaped up over her head. She couldn't yet fathom that she was rushing by the wind, not the other way around, and that Malfoy's words had stayed exactly where they were as she plummeted beneath them.

Hermione felt rough hands clutch her shoulders, and words were shouted in her ear. "We are in a bottomless pit, Granger." Each word was carefully annunciated and said loudly but calmly. "We're going to die. Boom boom, bang bang, lie down, you're dead." (7)

Hermione slipped out of her depth and out of her mind with her fear flowing out behind her. (8)

_

* * *

Tuesday, 4:39 AM _(9)_ Falling, falling._

Hermione started screaming again and lashed out blindly at Malfoy with both fists, throwing him against the rough-hewn wall of the pit. "What do you mean, we're going to die, you motherfucking ferret bastard?" To Hermione's horror, Malfoy's contact with the irregular stone of the wall impeded his speed slightly relative to hers, and he seemed to slide up the wall away from her. Terrified of being left alone on this express descent into Hell, Hermione scrabbled at Malfoy's pant leg with clutching fingers. Malfoy kicked at her petulantly.

"Get your fucking hands off me, Mudblood."

"Malfoy, get us out of here, you little shit!" (10)

"What do you want me to do?"

"Can't we climb out?"

"No. The walls are uneven, but there are no handholds or footholds."

"No landings?"

"No."

"No ledges?"

"No."

"No side tunnels?"

"Nope. Also no jungle vines, no rope ladders, no helpful updrafts, no geysers, and no scenic house elf vacation spots. It's a bottomless pit, for Merlin's sake!" A thought struck him. "Hey, aren't any of your fellow saviors of the universe with you? We might still be close enough to the top that they could hear us if we really screamed together."

"No," Hermione responded sadly. "I was acting alone. I didn't get a chance to tell the others where I was going when the alarm I had set up at the gates of Malfoy Manor went off."

"You set up an alarm at my house?"

"Well, you are a fugitive, asshole."

"Whatever."

"And you?"

"And me what?"

"We're at _your_ house. Won't someone up there be looking for you?"

"Doubt it."

"So use your wand, you insipid, inbred . . . "

Malfoy snorted derisively. "Hello, _Expelliarmus_. My wand is on the ground up there." He pointed to the opening far above their heads, which seemed to be a ring of dim moonlight moving away from them at impossible speed, getting smaller and smaller. Hermione glanced around wildly, attempting to assess her surroundings before the light disappeared completely into the distance. They were in a more or less cylindrical stone hole about four meters in diameter. She and Malfoy seemed to be falling at the same speed. He was about one meter above her, and her head was roughly level with his stomach. Malfoy's lateral kick had driven her about one meter away from him.

_

* * *

Tuesday, 4:41 AM _(11)_ Falling, falling._

"So, Granger," Malfoy shouted down at her in seeming amusement, crossing his arms over his chest. "Where's your wand?"

Hermione's head whipped up, sending her hair flying around her even more than it was already. She patted hopelessly at her robes. A clear image of her wand flying from her hand just before she fell appeared before her eyes, along with tears.

"I think it's with yours," she said softly.

"What?"

"I said," she yelled, tilting her chin up, "I think it's with yours!"

"You're so fucking clumsy, Granger," Malfoy taunted. Hermione reddened. How dare he insult her! He was a Death Eater! He had allowed the other Death Eaters into Hogwarts, which was hallowed ground as far as she was concerned. And he was directly responsible for Snape's killing of Dumbledore! Overcome with anger and grief, Hermione threw herself forward with all the momentum she could muster and punched Malfoy solidly in the stomach, causing him to double over in pain and spew a colorful stream of epithets and an even more colorful stream of vomit, which fell right along with them.

"Nice work, Granger," Malfoy gritted out, wiping his mouth. "I always wanted to plummet to my death in the company of a Mudblood and a trail of vomit."

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand to avoid creating her own vomit comet tail stretching up into the fading light. Malfoy's pungent stream of stomach contents seemed to be hanging in midair at precisely her nose level. She tried to think of something else.

_

* * *

Tuesday, 4:47 AM _(12)_ Falling, falling._

"Plummeting at a constant acceleration of 10 meters per second squared, at least until we all reach terminal velocity," Malfoy pointed out, not helping distract Hermione at all. "You, me, and this lovely trail of vomit. I think I'll call it Harry." His lip curled into a sneer. "Sic 'er, Harry!" he ordered, pointing at Hermione, who threw her hands up protectively, earning a wicked laugh from Malfoy. "No wand, remember, Granger?"

"Get it away from me, Malfoy!" Hermione shrieked desperately.

"And how do you propose I do that, Mudblood?" Malfoy asked derisively. "Ask it nicely to defy gravity, or at least obey it at a slightly different rate from ours?"

Hermione looked at the suspended matter, her brain struggling to work under impossible circumstances. "What if you catch it?"

"Catch it! In what?"

"I don't know, don't you have a handkerchief of something?"

Malfoy shook his head crossly. "I've been on the run (13) for two months. You think I've got a bloody hanky on me?"

"Well then, we'll just have to use your robes, won't we?"

"_My_ robes? Why my robes?"

"It's your sick!"

"Yeah, but it's there because _you_ punched me in the stomach, bitch!"

"You deserved it, you ferret bastard!" Hermione shrieked, starting to hyperventilate, which only made the pungent aroma seem more powerful.

Malfoy kicked out at her again, managing despite all efforts to get some of the vomit on his swirling robes. "Lovely!" he exclaimed harshly, grabbing the fabric with both hands and tearing desperately. He struggled for several minutes, muttering obscenities beneath his breath as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Gods, you're such a weakling!" Hermione exclaimed contemptuously.

"These are the highest quality robes money can buy, Mudblood," Malfoy sneered. "They're not made of fucking tissue paper."

Tutting nastily, Hermione grabbed the hem of her own robes and ripped. Not being the highest quality robes money could buy, they tore more easily. Hermione balled the torn piece of material in her fist and thrust it at Malfoy. "Here."

As carefully as possible, to avoid getting more of his last supper on himself, Malfoy leaned down and encased as much of the vomit as he could in the piece of Hermione's robe, tying the top into a makeshift knot. He held the impromptu sack of sick at arm's length, wrinkling his nose. "Now what?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Good question. Try throwing it as high as you can over your head. I think that way it will start falling again but won't get any closer."

Malfoy nodded in the deepening gloom. "One, two, THREE!" He hurled upward with all his might. They both watched the bag's trajectory as it zoomed upward, slowing gradually, and then started its descent about 10 meters above their heads. They watched it for a few more moments, during which time it did not catch up with them. In fact, it seemed to move slightly away from them, since they had been falling for longer than it had and therefore had accelerated to a faster rate of descent.

_

* * *

Tuesday, 4:50 AM _(14)_ Falling, falling._

"Malfoy?"

"What now, Granger? You're not really going to try to keep up a conversation until we die, are you? Because if you are, I think I'll find some way of killing myself first."

"How long does it take to die from starvation?"

"Don't worry, Granger. We're not going to starve to death."

Hermione looked up, hope kindling in her eyes, which had almost faded from Malfoy's view. "We're not?"

"No, it takes as long as a couple of weeks to starve to death. We'll die of thirst. Much faster – only a few days, a week max."

Reality crashed back around Hermione like a wave at the beach that is stronger than one expects, when one thinks one can just happily jump into it but instead gets knocked down and battered as one thinks one is drowning. She swallowed a lump in her throat. "Lovely. And what will that entail?"

"Well, about what you'd expect, actually. We'll stop producing saliva after awhile. Our tongues will get swollen. We won't be able to talk or swallow. No sweat, tears, urine, anything like that. Well, probably severe diarrhea. That'll be nice to look forward to as it falls with us. Cramping, weakness, hallucinations."

Hermione fought the bile rising in her throat. "Malfoy?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you know all this?"

"I think about death. A lot."

_

* * *

Tuesday, 4:56 AM _(15)_ Falling, falling._

"Malfoy?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Granger, what now?"

"Why the hemorrhaging fuck do you have a bottomless pit at your house?" Hermione asked despondently.

Malfoy clucked his tongue. "Now now, Granger. Language, darling. You must be mindful of my virgin ears."

"Yeah, right, Malfoy," Hermione scoffed. "Your ears are just as 'virgin' as the rest of you."

Malfoy was strangely silent for a moment. "How did you know?" he finally queried slowly.

Hermione was confused. "Know what?"

"That I'm a virgin," Malfoy blurted out.

"You're a _what_?"

"Um, never mind," he muttered quickly.

"No, really. Are you trying to tell me that you, Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Sex God, are a virgin? Better yet, that you, Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Sex God, are going to _die_ a virgin?"

"I said never mind!" he retorted angrily, humiliated.

The uncomfortable silence grew as they plummeted. Finally, Malfoy spoke. "Well, I've been terribly busy this year." As if that explained everything.

"But you're the Slytherin Sex God!" Hermione exclaimed without thinking.

"And where did you hear that?"

"From everybody! You've shagged everybody!"

"Have you ever actually heard anybody say, '_I_ slept with Draco Malfoy'?"

Hermione thought for a moment. And another. She furrowed her brow. "Well, no. It was always 'Malfoy shagged Pansy' or 'did you hear about Malfoy and Millicent?' or 'I heard Malfoy got caught with Trelawney.'"

"Exactly. Everybody thought I was sleeping with everyone else, so nobody wanted anything to do with me. Which worked out fine when I was busy doing important Death Eater work. Everybody assumed I was shagging some slut's brains out in the Room of Requirement, while I was, in actuality, trying to fix the damned cabinet. All to my benefit, really. Except that now I get to die a fucking virgin."

Hermione laughed despite herself. "I think that's an oxymoron, Malfoy."

"What is?"

"A 'fucking virgin.'"

_

* * *

Tuesday, 4:58 AM _(16)_ Falling, falling._

"Malfoy?"

"Oh, please kill me. What now, Granger?"

"Me too."

"Yeah, I suspected as much."

Hermione was deeply offended. "Why?"

"Because you're a goody-two-shoes with a quill jammed squarely up her ass, that's why. Who would shag you?"

"Well, men have tried!" Hermione responded with great indignation.

"Really?" Malfoy sounded almost interested. "Who?"

"Viktor Krum, for one."

"Really?" Malfoy asked again, genuinely impressed. "And why didn't you?"

"To be honest, I almost did. But I was only 14 at the time, and let's face it, that is pretty young, and he was 18, and . . . I don't know. I also don't know why I'm telling you this."

"You've got something better to do?"

Hermione conceded the point.

_

* * *

Tuesday, 5:01 AM _(17)_ Falling, falling._

"Anybody else?" This time Malfoy broke the silence.

Hermione blushed. Malfoy couldn't really see it anymore, but he sensed it nonetheless. "Ron."

"Weasley!" Malfoy hooted. "You almost slept with Weasley?"

"Yeah." Hermione couldn't believe she was saying this. "It was right after Dumbledore's funeral. We all went back to Gryffindor Tower to get our stuff for the Hogwarts Express, and we held each other for a long time while we cried and cried and cried, and one thing led to another, and there we were on a stripped bed in an empty dormitory, with my blouse open and his hand up my skirt, and . . . "

"_And?_" Malfoy demanded.

"And Harry walked in on us."

Malfoy burst out laughing. "Bloody Potter, always getting in the way. Speaking of Potter, you and he never . . . ?"

"No." She refused to elaborate.

"By the way, were there really rumors about me and _Trelawney_? That's just appalling."

_

* * *

Tuesday, 5:06 AM _(18)_ Falling, falling._

"Malfoy?"

"What, Granger?" Malfoy answered wearily. He was surprised to find that he had run out of insulting retorts so quickly. He had always supposed that his supply was endless, but now that he was actually facing infinity, he found that he was no match for it. Besides, the surrounding gloom had encompassed them thoroughly, and they couldn't see each other at all. There didn't seem to be much point in making the effort.

"So why _do_ you have a bottomless pit?"

"It's a 'keeping up with the Joneses' thing," Malfoy answered without rancor, shrugging just for something to do. "One Death Eater gets a three-headed guard dog . . . "

"Fluffy!" Hermione interjected.

Malfoy paused. "Excuse me?"

"Never mind. Pray continue."

"Where was I? Ah yes. One Death Eater gets a three-headed guard dog, the next one surrounds his house with a moat filled with crocodiles and piranhas, and the next thing you know, Malfoy Manor has a bottomless fucking pit."

"How does one dig a bottomless pit? Did your father make the house elves do it?"

"That sounds like some sort of Muggle joke, Granger. 'How many house elves does it take to dig a bottomless pit?' The answer is 'none.' It was all done with a wave of some contractor's wand. It's a pretty narrow and pricey specialization, you know. If one were to dig a hole from one side of the earth to the other and then step into it, one would accelerate until one reached terminal velocity, and then slow down at the same rate after one passed the center of the earth and just step out at the other end. Of course, one would be vaporized by the heat at the molten core of the earth, but that's neither here nor there. This, however, is a magical bottomless pit. Completely different animal altogether. We'll just keep falling until we die and the wind rips the flesh from our bones."

_

* * *

Tuesday, 5:11 AM _(19)_ Falling, falling._

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, Granger?"

"I'm bored."

"And what do you want me to do about _that_?"

"I don't know. You said you've thought about death a lot. Did it occur to you how bloody _boring_ it would be to die in a bottomless pit?"

"No, I will admit that that little detail escaped my attention."

"So what do you want to do?"

"What do _I _want to do? _I _want to get the fuck out of here."

"Well, yeah, me too, but what's the backup plan?"

"The _backup plan_?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

"What else can we do, in the dark, without our wands, as we fall to our eventual deaths?"

There was an awkward silence from Malfoy, and Hermione realized what she had said.

"Malfoy, are you doing that smirking suggestive-eyebrow-quirking thing of yours?"

"Who, me?" he asked innocently.

"_Malfoy_?"

"Maybe."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. But still, it's a thought."

"No, Malfoy."

"So you want to die a virgin?"

"No, I don't want to _die_ at all, Malfoy, but I'd rather die a virgin than shag you just because I'm bored."

"Fine. Then _you_ think of something else to do."

"Fine. Do you know how to play chess?"

"Of course I know how to play chess. I'm a rich, pureblood wizard!"

"That makes no sense, Malfoy. I'm _not _a rich, pureblood wizard, and _I _know how to play chess. Ron's not rich, but he's a pureblood, and he's an exceptional chess player."

"Whatever, Granger. In any case, I think it's going to be difficult playing chess in the total darkness, without a chessboard or men."

"Use your imagination, Malfoy!"

"Excuse me?"

"No, really. Use your imagination. I'll be white and go first. Queen's knight to F-3."

"I want to be white."

"Malfoy, don't whine. You're a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! You're black, and I'm white. Light and dark. Good and bad. Deal with it."

"But I'm the blonde and you're the brunette!"

"Tough shit. Queen's knight to F-3. Your move."

_

* * *

Tuesday, 7:37 AM Falling, falling. _

"Checkmate."

"Congratulations, Malfoy. You actually play very well. Shall we set them up again?"

"Nah, my brain hurts. I think I'm going to rest for a bit. I haven't gotten much sleep lately."

"Too much dancing and partying with your Death Eater buddies since you ran away from school, Malfoy?" Hermione teased.

To Hermione's great surprise, Malfoy completely lost his temper. "You don't know anything about me, Granger!" he shouted. "I told you before, I've been on the run! After all it's not easy, banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall. (20) All my life, I've been raised to follow in my father's footsteps and serve the Dark Lord. But when it came right down to the true test of my loyalty, I choked. I couldn't kill Dumbledore. And so the Death Eaters punished me. My beloved Dark Lord himself _Crucio_'d me into unconsciousness four times, and then he ordered _my own fucking father_ to kill me to prove _his _loyalty. I just barely managed to kick the wand away from his hand before he got through the _"Kedavra"_ part. And since then, it's been nonstop. Run all day, and run all night. (21) I have _nowhere_ to go, no one to turn to. And, of course, I've got you and your merry band of misfits chasing me as well. It's kind of ironic, actually – the one person I think would have tried to help me is Dumbledore, and he's dead.

"So I decided to give up. I snuck home to say one final good-bye to my mother and to pick up a decent set of robes to die in. My father has a beautiful ceremonial blade for performing _seppuku_ that he picked up in Japan. It's very, very sharp. I held the blade in trembling hands, prepared to make it, but just then (22) I heard you sneaking around, and I was off and running again. The ultimate irony, Granger, is that if you'd waited five more minutes, I'd already be dead, instead of both of us plunging together to an agonizing, slow death by thirst."

_

* * *

Tuesday, 7:40 AM Falling, falling. _

It was odd, Hermione thought, how they had managed to get used to the deafening sound of the wind. She knew intellectually that Malfoy must have screamed those words at the tops of his lungs if she had been able to hear them, but emotionally she felt like he had whispered them to her. In any case, Hermione had no idea what to say to this revelation from Malfoy, so she didn't. She merely reached out her hand and tentatively stroked Malfoy's arm as tears streaked both of their faces. He grasped her hand in his, and they fell together.

_

* * *

Tuesday, 11:53 AM Falling, falling. _

Hermione awoke with a start. She opened her eyes, but could see nothing. She waved her hand in front of her face, but she could not see it. There was a strange, deafening "whooshing" sound surrounding her. Her body felt very odd, and after a moment she realized that it was because it wasn't touching anything. Her arms flailed around her, finding nothing, and she started to scream as she realized where she was.

"Easy, Granger," a masculine voice cut through the darkness. "I'm right here."

Hermione's hands struck out in the direction from which she thought the voice had come. "Where?" she screamed in a panic. "I can't find you!"

She suddenly felt a hand grab her wrist and stop its frantic motion. "It's OK," he said soothingly. "I've got you."

"What were you doing?" Hermione demanded accusingly.

"I was, er, um, trying to _relieve_ myself before you woke up. Not a lot of privacy in here."

Mortified, Hermione stammered, "I . . . I'm sorry. Shit, now I have to go."

"So go."

"I can't."

"Why not? I won't look."

"Bashful kidney."

"Excuse me?"

"I can't go to the bathroom if anyone else is in the room."

"Where, pray tell, would you like me to go?"

"You're not helping, Malfoy."

"Sorry. How about if I start talking about waterfalls and rivers and fountains and oceans and . . . "

"OK, I get the picture."

Malfoy could hear Hermione fumbling with her tights. Then he heard a tearing sound.

"What are you doing, Granger?"

"I'm tearing strips of my robe to use as toilet paper," Hermione answered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then she added, "turn around, Malfoy."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Turn around!"

Malfoy knew when he was going to lose an argument. "Fine." He turned his head, knowing full well that she would never know whether he did or not. "Oh, and Granger?"

"What, Malfoy?"

"Try to, you know, _direct _it against the wall so it doesn't fall with us."

Hermione sighed. "That's pretty smart, Malfoy."

"Well, I'm not just another pretty face, you know."

_

* * *

Tuesday, 9:42 PM Falling, falling. _

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, Granger?"

"I'm hungry."

"Me too. Try not to think about it."

_

* * *

Tuesday, 9:43 PM Falling, falling. _

"Malfoy?"

A heavy sigh. "Yes, Granger?"

"I'm thirsty."

"Me too. Try not to think about it."

_

* * *

Tuesday, 9:44 PM Falling, falling. _

"Malfoy?"

An annoyed, sharp intake of breath. "What is it now, Granger?"

"I'm bored."

"Me too. What do you suggest we do?"

"I've run out of ideas."

"Well, we can always have sex."

"I said _no_, Malfoy."

"Well, then _you_ come up with something!"

"Do you want to play chess again?"

"I've already beaten you three times, and the last time we forgot where we were."

"Mental checkers?"

"That would be even more boring, and more difficult to keep track of, than mental chess."

"What's your favorite song?"

"I've heard you sing, Granger. I am not going to my death with the memory of you ruining my favorite song playing over and over in my head."

"OK, what's your _least_ favorite song?"

_

* * *

Wednesday, 12:24 AM Falling, falling. _

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, Granger?"

"I'm bored."

"I know."

"Do you want to sing another song?"

"No, Granger." Malfoy's voice was starting to get rough around the edges. "We've sung every song I know, twice, and I'm losing my voice."

Hermione realized that Malfoy was showing the first signs of dehydration.

_

* * *

Wednesday, 1:15 AM Falling, falling. _

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, Granger?" His voice rasped like sandpaper.

"OK."

"OK what?" Confused sandpaper.

"OK, I'll have sex with you."

"You _what?_"

"Let's have sex."

"What made you change your mind?"

"Boredom."

"Wow, I'm honored." Sarcastic sandpaper.

"Do you want to have sex or not?"

"The exertion will use up a lot of the water and energy we have left in our bodies, you know. We'll die faster."

"No offense to your scintillating conversational skills, Malfoy, but I'm in no hurry to prolong my death longer than I need to."

"Eh, I've got nothing better to do."

Still, Hermione was completely taken aback when she felt Malfoy's hands on her, one around her waist and one in her hair, and his dry lips on hers.

"Malfoy, watch it, my lips are dry and swollen."

"Mine too. So what do you want me to do?"

"Just try to be a little more gentle."

They resumed their kiss. Suddenly, Hermione felt Malfoy's dry tongue stroking against her parched lips. Surprised, she opened her mouth, and Malfoy slipped in his tongue. Despite the fact that they had been falling for nearly 24 hours and hadn't had anything to drink or eat for even longer than that, and their mouths were both completely sere, Malfoy's kiss was shockingly tender and pleasant. He took his time – what was the rush? Despite his lack of experience, he took the lead in their little dance, after a time allowing his hands to roam around Hermione's body.

They gently unbuttoned each other's shirts in the pitch black, their hands trying to sense what their eyes could not. Malfoy started to pull Hermione's robes and blouse off her shoulders, but she stopped him. "No, Malfoy, leave them on. We'll never find them again in the dark, and the wind is too cold to continue on without them." She felt Malfoy nod in assent, his forehead bumping against hers.

Malfoy pulled up Hermione's bra, exposing her breasts. He wished he could see them. He lowered his head and pulled one of her nipples into his dry mouth, his tongue reminding her oddly of Crookshanks's rough tongue as it rasped across her sensitive flesh. His touch sent an odd, electric sensation through her body as he moved to her other breast.

Hermione felt Malfoy's hands travel further down her body and work her skirt up around her waist. "What do you want me to do with your tights, Granger?" he asked, pulling his head away briefly and leaving her complaining wordlessly about the loss of contact. "Do you want me to take them off or just pull them down?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Take them off but loop them around your belt so I don't lose them."

Malfoy nodded his assent, although Hermione didn't see him. He gently rolled down her tights as he kissed her flat stomach in the dark, his hands skimming over her hips and down her legs. Much to her surprise, Hermione found that Malfoy's tender caresses were turning her on. She had heard about people who associated sex with danger and death, but she had never imagined that she would be one of them.

After attaching Hermione's tights securely to his belt, Malfoy climbed his way back up Hermione's body, and she felt his lips on hers again as she timidly fumbled with his belt buckle. Malfoy groaned as Hermione's inexperienced fingers brushed against his arousal, and she jerked her hand back in embarrassment. Malfoy grabbed her wrist sharply and brought her fingers back to the front of his pants, kissing her even harder as she drew down his zipper.

"Malfoy, what's that?" she asked curiously as she broke away briefly.

Malfoy chuckled. "Wow, Granger, I know you're a virgin, but I at least assumed you knew what _that _was!"

Hermione slapped at Malfoy's bare chest, sending an erotic shudder through him as she brushed his nipple with her fingernails. "No, asshole, what's that in your pocket? It feels like a jewelry box."

"It's a jewelry box."

"What's in it?"

"A ring. It's a Malfoy family heirloom."

"And you have it in your pocket because . . . "

"And I have it in my pocket because I'm going to put it on as the last thing I do before I die."

"Oh."

"Granger, I'm having a hard enough time concentrating here. If you keep distracting me, this is not going to work."

Hermione nodded with clinical detachment. "OK," she said as she resumed what she had been doing.

They kissed for what seemed like a very long time, Malfoy tangling his long, graceful fingers in Hermione's swirling, unruly mass of hair, Hermione wrapping her arms around Malfoy's neck and enjoying the feel of his baby-fine hair.

Finally, Malfoy's roaming fingers wended their way between Hermione's legs. Hermione moaned and bucked against his hand as she felt his lips form a smile against hers.

"What are you grinning about, Malfoy?"

"I was afraid you were going to be too dehydrated, too . . . well, _dry_. I don't want to hurt you."

Hermione was touched. "That's sweet, Malfoy. I think I'm about as ready as I'm ever going to be."

"Pillow talk really isn't your forte, is it, Granger?"

"Do you see any pillows, Malfoy?"

"I can't even see you!"

He kissed her again, deeply, and, using both hands, pulled her hips against his. "Are you sure you're ready, Granger?"

"Just get on with it, Malfoy."

Pinning her hips with her hands, Malfoy thrust forward. And, with nothing behind her for support, Hermione's hips moved back. Malfoy tried again. Same result.

"Shit. Granger, I need some help here. Wrap your legs around my waist." Hermione complied, and Malfoy let go of Hermione's waist with one hand, spit in it to the extent that he could, and rubbed what little saliva he could produce over himself before using his hand to guide himself to Hermione's slick entrance.

"OK, Granger. You pull with your legs and I'll push with my hips. I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt."

Hermione took a deep breath as the two dying teenagers finally managed to synchronize their movements, and Hermione felt her membrane tear violently. A few precious tears escaped her eyes as Malfoy held himself motionless within her, and he kissed them away gently, swallowing them like a holy offering.

"OK, Malfoy," Hermione finally said, and Malfoy started moving. He suddenly became acutely aware all over again of the roaring thunder of the air around him, his impending death, the darkness that had swallowed them completely, and the absurdity of the whole situation, and his senses were overwhelmed. His hands moved of their own accord to Hermione's backside, and he pulled her towards him over and over, jackhammering into her as she contracted her legs around him. It wasn't long before he came with a shuddering cry of triumph and buried his face in the crook between her neck and shoulder, panting heavily.

After a few moments, Hermione tapped Malfoy on the shoulder. "Um, Malfoy?"

"Mmm hmmm, Granger?" he responded sleepily.

"What about me?"

"What about you what? Oh! I'm sorry. Er, just give me a moment to catch my breath, OK?" He nuzzled against her neck, and the next sound she heard from him was a snore.

"Unfuckingbelievable!" she said aloud. With a bolt of terror, she suddenly realized that they had taken no precautions, and a split second later she equally suddenly realized that it made no difference whatsoever. As Malfoy slept peacefully, wrapped in her embrace, she sobbed as she fell alone into the void.

_

* * *

Wednesday, 4:30 AM Falling, falling. _

Malfoy swam up to consciousness from a great depth, wondering what that awful racket was. When his head cleared sufficiently, he discovered that it was Hermione, spitefully butchering his favorite song. When she heard him groan and felt him lift his head from her cramped shoulder, she stopped long enough to ask, "I've always wondered, Malfoy. What's a banjerin?"

"What's a _what_?"

"A banjerin. Is it a Muggle stringed instrument, like a banjo?"

"Granger, I have no idea what you're on about," he answered groggily and dryly. "What does a banjerin do?"

"It plays a different tune."

"A different tune from what?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking! 'And if the banjerin starts playing a different tune, I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.'" (23)

Malfoy laughed for so long and so hard that Hermione had to pound on his back to stop him from choking to death.

_

* * *

Wednesday, 4:47 AM Falling, falling _

"Granger?"

"Yes, Malfoy?"

"It's '_band you're in_.' 'And if the _band you're in_ starts playing a different tune, I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.'"

_

* * *

Wednesday, 5:59 AM Falling, falling. _

"Do you think the sun has come up yet, Malfoy?"

Malfoy nodded. "Yeah, I think it's morning. The sun is the same, in the relative way, but we're older, and shorter of breath, and one day closer to death." (24) He held her body tightly against his as they drifted back into sleep.

_

* * *

Wednesday, 8:36 AM Falling, falling. _

"All right, Malfoy, I've been patient enough. Where's my damned orgasm?"

"I love it when you talk dirty."

"_Malfoy_ . . ."

And then he was on her again. His lips and hands were everywhere, both rough and dry from lack of fluid. When Hermione held his face in his hands, she imagined that his skin felt thinner, that his cheeks felt hollower. He kissed her face and down her neck, her collarbones, her breasts, and her stomach. He removed the tights that it had taken her centuries to put back on. In the absolute darkness, she lost contact with him briefly and nearly panicked until she felt him take one of her feet in his hands and layer delicate kisses up her ankle, behind her knee, up her thigh, pausing briefly to brush his nose at the vee of tight curls before moving down her other leg. Hermione was overwhelmed by the feeling of his mouth and hands everywhere. She couldn't tell whether he was in front of her or behind her, and it finally hit her that he was moving around her in the darkness, winding around her like a climbing vine.

She was panting by the time he kissed his way back up to the juncture of her thighs, nudging them apart with his hands.

"Malfoy, what on earth are you . . . oh, sweet Merlin!" Hermione threw her head back and moaned in abandon as Malfoy expertly used his lips, teeth, tongue, and fingers on her, taking full advantage of any secretions Hermione was still able to produce.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" Hermione demanded, her fingers caught in his downy hair, holding his face to her as she moved her hips wildly.

"I think about sex. A lot. Death and sex. Not much else to do on the run, you know. You fritter and waste the hours in an off hand way. (25) And, well, the place where I was hiding for awhile had a large supply of Muggle romance novels lying about."

Hermione laughed for a moment, until Malfoy turned his attention back to the task at hand and made her forget what was funny. Her entire world narrowed to those nerve endings, all her other senses deprived of stimulation, the focus of the universe between her legs. "Oh gods, Malfoy! There!" she screamed as a foreign sensation built within her body, tension building until she was sure she would snap in two. Her feet flexed, her toes curled, and her entire body jerked as she came apart.

As reality built itself back around her and her breathing and heart rate started to slow, Hermione expected Malfoy to work his way back up her body and hold her. But he didn't. For several confused moments, Hermione could not figure out what he was doing, feeling him maneuver himself around her, still maintaining contact with the center of her body with his mouth and fingers, driving her crazy. Then suddenly she realized that Malfoy had turned himself upside down. She only came to this realization when she felt his zipper bump against her nose.

Hermione was shocked for a moment. Good girls didn't do that! Then she realized that all the rules by which she had always lived applied only Up There, and she quickly pulled down Malfoy's zipper (actually, she pulled it _up_, since he was hanging upside down) and took him into her mouth. Mindful of the fact that she had next to no saliva with which to lubricate him, Hermione gently used her tongue, her lips, and even tender scrapes of her teeth on him as he did the same to her, each creating just the right amount of friction to bring the other to the edge.

"Fuck!" Malfoy suddenly shouted.

"Mph?" Hermione's mouth was full, preventing her from answering properly.

"Nosebleed. Hang on."

Malfoy tipped himself forward, pulling his legs backward, and Hermione found herself and Malfoy slowly spinning end over end as they fell in the pitch black. It was, regrettably, the single most exhilarating experience of her short life. As she lapped thirstily at the thick, salty liquid that Malfoy pumped down her throat, she thought she saw one last, blinding flash of light behind her eyes. The plummeting couple's simultaneous screams of release reverberated off the walls of the bottomless pit, and they imagined that the force of their cries carried all the way to the surface.

_

* * *

Thursday, 1:16 AM Falling, falling. _

"Malfoy?" Her voice was growing weaker.

"Yes, Granger?"

"I feel cold as a razor blade, tight as a tourniquet, dry as a funeral drum. (26) I don't want to die like this."

"I think it's a little late for that, Granger."

"I mean I can't take this torture. I've always thought that I could withstand torture, and I expected it. I mean, I've been _Crucio_'d and everything."

Malfoy was surprised. "Who used _Crucio_ on you, Granger? When did the Death Eaters capture you?" He tone was almost . . . was it protective?

Hermione shook her head, although she knew that he could not see her gesture in the total darkness. "We practice it on each other so that we know what to expect if we are captured."

"No offense, Granger, but I'm pretty sure that when Potter uses _Crucio_ on you, it doesn't really prepare you for when the Dark Lord does it."

"That may be true, but Voldemort has used _Crucio_ on Harry, and he seemed pretty determined to let me know what it would really be like."

"Wow." Malfoy whistled between his teeth into the darkness. "That's real friendship, in a completely demented sort of way. I don't think I've ever known friendship like that. And now I never will. I wonder if it would have changed anything for me," he mused.

"Malfoy . . . _Draco _. . . the point is that I was wrong. I can't withstand torture. Or maybe I can withstand _physical_ torture, but I can't take this psychological torture. I think I'm going insane. (27) My mind is everything to me, Malfoy. I can't lose it."

"Granger, what are you asking me?"

"I'm asking you to redeem yourself with one final act of friendship, Draco. Kill me. Please."

"You have lost your mind, Granger!" Malfoy railed furiously. "I couldn't kill Dumbledore, I can't kill you – you're the only two people who have ever showed me any kindness in my entire life! And then I'll be all alone in this nightmare, won't I? Going to be hard to have any sort of mutual suicide pact in this situation, isn't it? And let's face it, I'm too pretty to bash my head against these walls until I'm dead. Actually, I'm too scared and too good-looking, (28) but the end result is the same. Me, falling alone for the rest of my short, miserable life, with only your dead body to keep me company. Thank you, no. Don't leave me now. (29) For you, it's oh so easy now, as we lie here in the dark. Nothing interferes, it's obvious how to beat the tears that threaten to snuff out the spark of our love." (30)

Hermione laughed ruefully at the irony of the word "love" on Draco Malfoy's lips, then she reached out her hand and traced Malfoy's face in the dark. "Please, Draco? If not for friendship, then for love?" He felt her soft lips on his, and he kissed her back with all the passion he possessed, sobbing into the kiss. They both knew that the tears that they shed at that moment would be the last that their desiccated bodies would ever produce. Malfoy and Hermione held each other as if they would never let go.

It was dark all around, (31) but through the fish-eyed lens of tear-stained eyes, (32) Hermione felt Malfoy nod.

"Thank you, Draco," she whispered against his lips. He couldn't hear her, but it was as though his lips read hers in the dark, as if he breathed in her words as she exhaled them.

"Goodbye, Hermione," he answered. "I'll see you on the dark side of the moon." (33)

He put his hands gently on either side of her face, kissed her forehead, and, with one swift twist, he broke her neck.

_

* * *

Thursday, 1:27 AM Falling, falling. _

With a shudder, Malfoy pushed Hermione's lifeless body from his. Then he wiped the tears from his eyes and wiped his hands on his robes.

_

* * *

Thursday, 1:28 AM Falling, falling. _

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small box. Fumbling in the darkness, he opened the box. His scrabbling fingers found and donned the serpent-shaped metallic band, and he felt a familiar and very welcome tug behind his navel as the portkey activated.

After a few seconds of even more disoriented whirling, he found himself, dazed, weak, and nearly blinded by the dazzling light of the blackest night, on _terra firma_. He shaded his eyes, so nearly blind, (34) until his eyes started to adjust, and he saw that he was surrounded by a circle of amorphous blobs that slowly resolved themselves into black-robed, hooded, and masked figures. He knelt unsteadily before the only figure that had neither a hood nor a mask.

"It is done, My Lord."

_And if I show you my dark side  
Will you still hold me tonight?  
And if I open my heart to you  
And show you my weak side  
What would you do?_

"The Final Cut" _Waters_ (35)

* * *

Gotcha! And the final tally for this installment is: Pink Floyd and Roger Waters 35, everybody else, 0. And since I'm fairly certain that exactly none of you got the time references, I exhort you all to go forth and listen to Roger Waters's masterful "The Pros & Cons of Hitchhiking." Not technically Pink Floyd, but pretty much as good as that kind of thing gets. 

And yes, someone once asked me what a banjerin was.

Oh, and I keep forgetting – please review! That goes without saying, doesn't it?

* * *

In case you don't believe that there are an astounding 35 Pink Floyd/Roger Waters references in this one, I have endnoted them here. 

1 _Empty Spaces_ (from "The Wall" by Pink Floyd)

2 _4:30 AM (Apparently They Were Traveling Abroad) _(from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

3 _Run Like Hell_ (from "The Wall" by Pink Floyd)

4_ 4:33 AM (Running Shoes) _(from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

5 _4:37 AM (Arabs with Knives & West German Skies)_ (from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

6 _Time_ (from "Dark Side of the Moon" by Pink Floyd)

7 _The Fletcher Memorial Home_ (from "The Final Cut" by Pink Floyd)

8 _The Thin Ice_ (from "The Wall" by Pink Floyd)

9 _4:39 AM (For the First Time Today – Part 2)_ (from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

10 _The Trial_ (from "The Wall" by Pink Floyd)

11 _4:41 AM (Sexual Revolution)_ (from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

12 _4:47 AM (The Remains of Our Love)_ (from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

13 _On the Run_ (from "The Dark Side of the Moon" by Pink Floyd)

14 _4:50 AM (Go Fishing)_ (from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

15 _4:56 AM (For the First Time Today – Part 1)_ (from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

16 _4:58 AM (Dunroamin, Duncarin, Dunlivin) _(from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

17 _5:01 AM (The Pros & Cons of Hitchhiking – Part 10)_ (from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

18 _5:06 AM (Every Stranger's Eyes)_ (from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

19 _5:11 AM (The Moment of Clarity)_ (from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

20 _Outside the Wall_ (from "The Wall" by Pink Floyd)

21 _Run Like Hell_ (from "The Wall" by Pink Floyd)

22 _The Final Cut_ (from "The Final Cut" by Pink Floyd)

23 _Brain Damage_ (from "Dark Side of the Moon" by Pink Floyd)

24 _Time_ (from "Dark Side of the Moon" by Pink Floyd)

25 _Time_ (from "Dark Side of the Moon" by Pink Floyd)

26 _One of My Turns_ (from "The Wall" by Pink Floyd)

27 _The Final Cut _(from "The Final Cut" by Pink Floyd) (that's an easy one to miss – he says it in the background at the end of the song)

28_ 5:01 AM (The Pros & Cons of Hitchhiking – Part 10)_ (from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

29 _Don't Leave Me Now_ (from "The Wall" by Pink Floyd)

30 _5:06 AM (Every Stranger's Eyes)_ (from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

31 _When the Tigers Broke Free_ (from "Echoes: The Best of Pink Floyd" by Pink Floyd)

32 _The Final Cut_ (from "The Final Cut" by Pink Floyd)

33 _Brain Damage_ (from "Dark Side of the Moon" by Pink Floyd)

34 _5:06 AM (Every Stranger's Eyes)_ (from "The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking" by Roger Waters)

35_ The Final Cut_ (from "The Final Cut" by Pink Floyd)


End file.
